Thirty Years a Hunter

It’s always rewarding to “stumble” upon a story of regional history that may not be well known, but nonetheless, is an important look into the lives of those who have literally opened the trail for us, and provided a firsthand account of what it was like to be a pioneer in the 1700 to 1800s. Philip Tome wrote a narrative of his life in northern Pennsylvania. Here is a small segment of Pioneer Life or Thirty Years a Hunter: Being Scenes and Adventures in the Life of Philip Tome.

“In presenting the following incidents of my life, to the public, I do not intend to claim for it beauty of expression, for it is the production of one born in the wilderness; one who is more conversant with the howl of the wolf and panther, and the whoop of the savage, than the tones of oratory, as heard in civilized life. It is said that truth is often more strange than fiction, and those in pursuit of the marvelous will not be disappointed in perusing these pages. They are full of scenes in Border Life, accidents, and hair-breadth escapes." -- Philip Tome

“I was born March 22d, 1782, in Dauphin County, near where the city of Harrisburg now stands. My parents were both of German extraction. They moved up the Susquehanna River about ninety miles in 1786, traveling in a keelboat there being no roads or other mode of conveyance. They landed at a place called Farris Creek in what was then Northumberland County and remained there about four months when the Six Nations of Indians began to trouble the inhabitants on the west branch of the Susquehanna. We then moved back into Cumberland County, five miles from Harrisburg, on the west side of the Susquehanna.

“At that time the Indians distressed the inhabitants for about eighteen months. We remained there two or three years, when, the Indians having become peaceable, we returned up the river, and stopped at Warry Run (Warrior Run), about two miles above the junction of the two branches of the Susquehanna.

"In 1791, my father purchased some land about seventy miles up the west branch of the river in the wilderness. He hired men and paid them in advance to build a house. They did not fulfill their contract, but having raised and enclosed it, left it without a chimney, door, window, or floor, while the bushes ten feet high were left standing in the middle of the house. On the first of November, my father started for his residence and loaded a keelboat with provisions sufficient for one year, irons for a mill, and a supply of clothing.

He was six days going fifty miles. He then arrived at the mouth of Pine Creek, six miles from his destination, but could proceed no farther with his boat, on account of low water. He then hired ten canoes and started with such articles as he most needed. He arrived at his house the 20th of November. It was very cold; the men had been dragging the boats, and the women were nearly frozen. "When within two miles of the house two of the men who assisted in building it asked the privilege of going ahead to make a fire. When we arrived in sight we saw a large fire, which revived our spirits greatly, for the snow was falling rapidly, the wind blew cold. and we were chilled through. A hole had been left for a chimney, and a fire built on that side of the house, and when we arrived the men were cutting out the brush. My father asked why things had been left in this state. They replied that they could not induce the other men to proceed any farther with the job. Father then demanded why they had not informed him a day or two earlier, and was inclined to be somewhat angry, when my mother interposed, and said if we could get through the first night it would do. We soon became warm, had our supper, went to sleep, and passed the night very comfortably. The next morning all hands went to work and made a floor and chimney, and plastered the house, and accomplished it in two days. On the 25th my father commenced his mill. He had to hew and split out all the timbers to be used for building. He had also a race to dig and a dam to build, and he had it all finished by the first of March."

Philip Tome dictated his life’s story during the last two years of his life. She wrote it in shorthand, and it was then published. He died in Corydon (Warren County) Pennsylvania, on April 30, 1855, at the age of seventy-three. Both he and his wife Mary are buried in Riverview Cemetery, Warren County.